


Ten Little Words

by Calacious



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Gen, prompt word challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten words, ten different short scenarios inspired by episodes from the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Little Words

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a fifty word challenge.

**#01 Walking ::**

"I'm very sorry." – Doctor (line from show)

_Sorry?_

_Sorry._

_Sor . . . ry._

Roosevelt kisses his dead wife's cheek, turns and walks out of the hospital room. Someone's going to pay.

_Sorry._

The word echoes as hollowly in his head as his footsteps do on the cool, sterile linoleum.

**#02 Waltz ::**

Wayne's been at this for a long time now; dancing with the devil. One of these days he's going to miss a step and trip over the devil's foot – wind up on his ass, sprawling.

**#03 Wishes ::**

Donna reaches into the soapy water, mind absent, picturing Opie coming home after a long day of working on a car – hands oil-caked – 'Ouch, shit,' she brings her injured finger to her mouth, sucks on the blood and counts down the days until Opie comes home from prison.

**#04 Wonder ::**

Sometimes Gemma wonders what things would've been like had John Teller not died, but then she catches a glimpse of Clay, of Jax, and she's glad he's dead.

**#05 Worry ::**

Juice paces in his bedroom, and really, there isn't much room for pacing, and he's bypassed the foot of his bed over a dozen times already, but . . . fuck, he's screwed and there's nothing he can do about it. The metal of his gun winks at him from where he's laid it down on his dresser.

**#06 Whimsy ::**

Happy tilts his head and narrows his eyes to get a closer look at the jeweled trinket; it's pretty and cool, and a great 'prize' to take from his latest kill, not that he often takes something away from those he kills, or that this kill is any different than the others. He smiles as he tucks it away into his pocket. He wipes the blood from his knife onto his jeans and whistles as he walks away.

**#07 Waste/Wasteland ::**

Gemma leans in the window frame, looks outside. Weeds grow where there were once flowers – pink, white, purple – and now there's not even one struggling to break through the surface of the rock-strewn flowerbed.

"Damn waste."

She turns and walks away.

**#08 Whiskey and Rum::**

Whiskey burns his throat as it goes down, churns in his gut, mixes with the raw sickness that's taken up residence there since what happened to Dawnie. He rolls the amber liquid around his tongue, waits until the fire bites and then he swallows.

When the prospect hands him a glass of rum, Tig eyes the butterscotch colored liquor dubiously and downs it in one go. It doesn't burn, it warms. He reaches for the bottle of Jack Daniels, finds a dark corner in the clubhouse and drinks alone.

**#09 War ::**

Chibs has participated in enough wars for more than one lifetime, yet, as he stitches up the bite on Tig's ass, he knows that there's nowhere else he'd rather be, than fighting beside, and then patching up his brothers.

**#10 Weddings ::**

Tara hums a lullaby to Thomas and fingers the wedding band on her finger. She picks at the material of her new cast; her skin still itches beneath it. This is not how she pictured her life a year ago.

 


End file.
